Jawn, I don't think deduction is your division
by epicukulele
Summary: Student!Lock AU. John and Sherlock both attend the Baker Street Boarding School for Girls and Boys, where they share a dorm room. They both become friends despite their strange attributes and quirks.
1. Chapter 1

John Watson stared outside the window at the grey looming building. It was old, in a way that made it look endearing and intimidating at the same time. Baker Street Boarding School for Boys and Girls, read the sign on the fence. John was doubtful that he would enjoy it here, he had always had high expectations, and every school had never achieved them. His father had said this was the last one, before he would lose his patience and send John to a military academy. Previous schools had, let's say, not been suited to John, who preferred his own company and didn't enjoy being forced into an entourage of clubs and school societies where he was forced to socialise or talk to others. In fact, he didn't enjoy any situation where he had to talk to others. It often left him bored, bored enough to accidently set the school on fire or fill the vents with stink bombs. This was his last chance of redemption, as father liked to call it.

John stepped out the car, and his father patted him on the back.

"You behave, remember what I told you, stand straight and don't slouch." He said stoically. John didn't reply, he just shrugged and picked up his bags.

An older lady came out of the school and greeted them, accompanied by a tall skinny boy with pale skin, and a mess of curly dark hair. He had what appeared to be red paint splattered on his jumper and his shirt was a shrew.

"Good Morning, I'm Mrs Hudson." She shook John's father's hand and John's. "I'm the headmistress here and I'm pleased to welcome you to the school-"

"You are in the army, right?" The skinny boy inquired.

"I don't see how that is any of your business." John's father's replied sternly.

"I'm taking that as a yes, the tone implied denial." Sherlock said wistfully.

"Sherlock! You could at least appear to have some manners, don't start introductions with deductions, you start with hello!" Mrs Hudson shook her head. "Just go and take John's bags to the dorm, please?"

John looked at the red on the boy's jumper, at first he thought it was red paint but-

"Yes, John, it is blood, I was looking at the stab wounds and the different projections of blood patterns they caused and didn't have time to clean up, oh don't look so precious, it was a cadaver, not a live body, of course." Sherlock said in an extremely arrogant tone.

John didn't know whether to be slightly impressed or extremely horrified at this boy's extracurricular activities, but he was certainly a character.

Sherlock took John's bags and walked into the school building.

"I'm so sorry about that, he's different, to say the least, erm, but an extremely gifted student." Mrs Hudson apologised profusely.

"How did he know I was in the army, did you tell him, or-" John's father seemed extremely offended that his personal life would be shared with a student

"No, of course not, he deduced it . As I said before, Sherlock is an extremely gifted student, in more ways than one. He can deduce things about people just by looking at them, their job, extra martial affairs, holidays, just anything. He just observes and sees things that normal people don't see, because they are not looking. But unfortunately his skills don't extend to everyday social attributes." Mrs Hudson tried to hurriedly explain.

"Okay, well as least there is someone, not as disturbed as John." John's father's tone was sharp. "I'll better be going."

"I think that's best." John replied monotonously to his father.

"This way John" Mrs Hudson motioned for John for to follow her up the steps and into the school.

"I see you've made yourself acquainted with the new boy," Anderson smirked as he approached Sherlock in the corridor, on the way to his first lesson of the day.

"I see you've made yourself acquainted with Donavon's dorm room, and you've been scrubbing that floor hard looking at the state of your knees" Sherlock coolly replied.

"You're a complete psychopath, you know that Sherlock, or should I say freak." Donavon whispered into Sherlock's ear and shoved him against the lockers.

"One, I'm a high level sociopath, completely different, check the dictionary and two please use more adjectives to describe me. Expand your vocabulary, you think calling me a freak will cause me to cry into my pillow. Actually, on second thoughts, it does, because your lack of describing words would reduce any linguist or English graduate to tears." Sherlock straightened his blazer. "I'm sure you don't want me to tweet about your explorations of each other's bodies, you would get kicked out of the school and I'm sure you are aware and rather envious of my rather large follower count, I suggest you two leave me be, off you pop. I don't know what goes on in those stupid, tiny heads of yours, but it's surely not thinking." Sherlock grinned, a fake, 'I've got you cornered now sort of grin' and walked off.

Sherlock saw John coming his way down the corridor. John's pace quickened to keep up with Sherlock, however he struggled to walk fast.

"Wait, how did you know my father was in the army" John hurriedly called after Sherlock. Sherlock smiled to himself and turned around, hiding his inner excitement, that someone was fascinated with his skills. Rather odd, he thought to himself.

"I mean, we've never met, I'd only just come out of the car and –"

"Your poise, not upright because you are confident, but because of habit, it's all you know, you were taught to handle yourself that way. Your hair, just growing out of army cut, it's been really low for a while, you are growing it for the school policy. Probably have a Dad in the army, more likely it your Dad than mum, you look up to him so you would emulate his stance and his hair. You act like this to impress him, because it's the only way you know how to." Sherlock looked at John waiting for a look of horror but was greeted with pure admiration.

"That was- that was bloody amazing" John beamed.

"Really?" Sherlock was certainly not expecting that response, "I usually get, you know called freak or asked how long I've been stalking that person's Facebook page."

"What else can you tell from looking from me" John enquired.

"You're not close to your father, I would tell by his body language, emotionless, he didn't hug you goodbye. You've been to a lot of schools, when I saw you didn't seem nervous, just bored because you are used to being in new environments. Well, you didn't go on holiday this summer, no tan line. You live on a moor, because of the grass stain pattern on your trousers, it hasn't rained recently, and the bottoms of your trousers are damp. You a traditionalist, you have a typewriter, I can see the correction fluid on your sleeve. You struggled to catch up with me because you have a limp. The limp, it's psychosomatic, probably caused by extreme trauma, well your therapist has probably already told you that. Your therapist also told you to write about yourself, hence the correction fluid, you also change words because you don't know what to say. I know your limp is psychosomatic because you still do sports, I carried your sports bag, if it were that serious or recent, you would be excused. I'm guessing drowning, I didn't see carry the school swimming bag, it still traumatises you, okay that one is a bit of a leap but guessing from your face, I'm right. "

"Stop please" John pleaded. His eyes showed pain and then changed, he mentally composed himself.

"Sorry, I got carried away, I went too far."

"No, it's okay, you did nothing wrong, I asked you gave me the answers, just because I didn't like it, it does mean…" John's voice drifted, unsure of what to say, but could see Sherlock understood.

"Usually people turn on me when I give them answers they don't like, I think it is best I go."

"There's no need." John replied,

"Oh don't worry, we'll see each other soon, I'm certain of it" Sherlock slunk away, content at possibly meeting someone who didn't find him intolerable.

John ambled from lesson to lesson, there weren't boring, but he just kept thinking about Sherlock's abilities to read people and attempted and failed throughout the day. Eventually he just gave up, better leave the deductions to Sherlock.

The day was over and it was time, for all the students to go to their dorms. John stared at the map in the pack, he was given early in the day, he was in dorm 221b.

John found his room and was pleasantly surprised with his roommate.

"Hello John, didn't I say we would see more of each other." Sherlock smirked

John saw his bags in the corner and took it upon himself to unpack and put his uniform in the cupboard beside what he presumed to be his bed because Sherlock was lying in the only other bed and they hadn't really discussed who would take which bed. John was grateful because at least he didn't have to have an awkward exchange where they would both say they didn't mind, he was sure that even if he did discuss it with Sherlock, he wouldn't even have a choice as Sherlock seemed to be a person that is accustomed to their own way. John finished packing and made his way towards the bed, although when he saw his bed, he was shocked to say the least.

"Sherlock!" John yelled.

"Yes, John you're intruding my mind place." Sherlock was lying on the bed, throwing a tennis ball at the wall and catching it with the other hand.

"Never mind your bloody mind palace, why is there a Cadaver in my bed" John was fuming

"The medical society gave it to me for experimentation, we have no storage, so left it on your bed, your bed was a logical place to put it, because I sleep in mine." Sherlock replied coolly as if remarking about the weather.

"Sherlock, did you not hear me….WHY IS THERE A DEAD BODY IN MY BED?" John was taken aback by Sherlock's cool demeanour.

"It's frozen still, I need it to defrost, we have a few days till it rots, well I wanted to see how different chemical compounds affect the microorganisms which cause decay." Sherlock answered wistfully.

"It's either the body or me" John spoke sternly, wondering how Sherlock got the body into the school, in the first place. He soon realised that he didn't want to know.

"There's a spare bed in Anderson's dorm if you want it." Sherlock shrugged.

"You choose a dead body over me, hey did you anyone tell you how kind and considerate you are" John voice was dripping with sarcasm.

"Funny you asked John, but nobody has ever complemented me on my social attributes." Sherlock contemplated.


	2. Chapter 2

"Sherlock!"

After a week of living in a dorm with Sherlock, shouting his name had become a customary procedure. John had started to become accustomed to Sherlock's interesting choice of hobbies and the particular times he thought were appropriate to procure them.

"Sherlock! It's a three in the morning, please can you play when, you know, IT'S IN THE MIDDLE OF BLOODY DAY!" John took his pillow and tried to muffle the sound of the violin but to no avail.

"I wish that were probable but I feel like playing now, so I'm going to play now." Sherlock said in matter-of-fact tone, and if it was even possible, he began to play even louder.

"Last night, you described to me the school's ventilation system while blindfolded, so why you don't you climb up a vent and go pop into a music room for a bit like any normal person would when playing violin at three." John grumbled to himself, wondering why he'd even bothered when Sherlock was not the type to give in easily, or respond to reason.

"Well, you think the music sounds nice, though." Sherlock stopped playing and turned to John.

"Yes, well how did you know?" John's voice was full of sarcasm.

"You're smiling."

Sherlock continued playing violin into the early hours of the morning.

**ooOoo**

John stared at his chemistry textbook, wondering whether med school was worth the complete and utter confusion he experienced every chemistry lesson.

"You look muddled to say the least." He looked up saw a girl staring at her textbook, smiling to herself. "Metals can conduct electricity because of the delocalised electrons from the outer shell which are free to move around in the atom."

"Erm, thanks?" John was not sure whether to be thankfully or surprised.

"You just look really confused, I didn't hear you turn the page, you've been staring at the same page for over half an hour and your exercise book is blank apart from that doodle of…" She stared intently at John's exercise book. "Either a hotdog, or a fly, I'm not really sure what it is to be honest." She smiled at John and extended an inky hand, "Mary, and you are…", she waited for a response.

John was dazed, she was very, forthright? Pretty? Yes, she was more than pretty, gorgeous, and she was talking to him. Oh, right, this is the part of the conversation where you are supposed to talk, thought John. Okay, start talking; this seemed like a perfect time for him mouth to lose one of its only functions, talking.

"Urm, err, J-John, yes, err, John." John said hurriedly and blushed in embarrassment.

Mary looked at him expectantly, oh yes, he thought, he forgot to shake her hand. He shook her hand quickly and watched her burst into a fit of laughter. John wasn't sure if he was supposed to laugh along with her, so he coughed to make it less awkward.

"Someone is just not used to social interaction." She had stopped laughing but she was still beaming.

"No, I guess, I'm not." It was John's turn to smile at his lack of social skills.

"It's fine, it's kind of endearing." She pushed her chair towards John's, "Here, let me help you."

As she explained steadily to John, he felt two things begin to click in his mind. Firstly, he understood chemical bonding for the first time and secondly, he would like to know Mary better and that he knew for sure.

"So is it true that you share with Sherlock?" Mary tied her hair into tight bun, a simple activity that she managed make look extremely graceful.

"Yes, I guess." John wondered where she was going with this. He had become aware over his week at being in the school, that people had a general distaste for Sherlock Holmes. It could only be described as unified force that knitted the school body together. "If you have something to say about him that's bad, don't say it." He found himself being defensive of Sherlock, and to be honest, he realised he knew next nothing about him apart from that he had an amazing mind, bad social skills and just generally bad social conduct, bad being a huge understatement.

Mary stared at John, "Don't get pulled in by him and his mind. Be careful, I don't want him to hurt you." She squeezed his arm and continued to talk about the intermolecular forces in graphite.

**ooOoo**

"You look happy today." Sherlock said as John walked into the dorm. Sherlock was sat at the desk, head bent over a petri dish full of mould.

"What was she like?" Sherlock asked.

"What girl, wait? How did you-" John was puzzled, but soon realised that this was Sherlock, of course he knew.

"You weren't limping, there's bounce in your step. You had chemistry today, usually you slam the door after a lesson of chemistry." Sherlock continued to stare at the petri dish. John was presently surprised by the little things Sherlock had noticed about his mannerisms.

"I bet she's boring."

"You don't even know her." John's voice rose defensively.

"Well everybody's boring; trust you to like the boring ones." Sherlock rose from the desk and began to rummage through a drawer. "I'm shadowing a police case tomorrow, for psychology; we don't have any lessons tomorrow."

"That sounds exciting- wait, why did you say we?" John inquired.

"You're coming with me, I need a second opinion, someone I can trust, most of the police guys don't like me for some reason."

"Don't you have other friends, who can come with you?" John was secretly eager, but he thought a morbid fascination in crime might be seen as distasteful.

"Do I look like I have friends?" Sherlock studied John's expression.

"No?" Trying not to offend Sherlock but he guessed this was probably the truth.

"Look, you answered your own question, how clever of you." Sherlock applauded sarcastically.

"Why are you here, Sherlock?" Sherlock stopped staring avidly at the mould and turned to face John. "I mean, why didn't just skip school, you seem too bright to be here."

"I agree, I'm afraid that saying here will dull my mind, but alas, my elder brother Mycroft believes that my social capabilities are way below brain age and so he wishes for me to make friends." John wasn't sure if he imagined it, but he saw Sherlock shudder as he said friends. "I guess it's not so bad, I think you're growing on me, like a mould on cheese." Sherlock smiled the most genuine smile John had seen him smile, so he took that comment as a compliment.

**ooOoo**

"John, wake up. We're going to the morgue." Sherlock shoved John off the bed.

"Ow." John woke up sharply, and rubbed his head. Sherlock was peering intently at John's face.

"Maybe, I pushed you too hard. At least, you're concussed. You were out for…" Sherlock checked his watch, "2 minutes, 43 seconds."

John had got used to Sherlock's lack of concern for his wellbeing. He had already been injured that week when due to excitement, Sherlock throw a scalpel at the door, the same door, coincidentally John was walking through. John tried to reassure himself by telling himself the scar across his nose looked cool. It didn't. John had freaked out but Sherlock simply stated the velocity the scalpel was thrown at could have never have killed John, or seriously injured him. He then proceeded to scolded John for not giving back the scalpel.

"There's no time for you to shower so hurry up and get dressed." Sherlock began to pull on a long trench coat.

"Or I could just I have a lie in and not go." Sherlock gave John a murderous look, John decided that maybe going along was best, for everyone.

**ooOoo**

"DI Lestrade, nice to meet you John." Lestrade shook John's firmly and nodded at Sherlock.

"What are we looking at here?" Sherlock queried.

"This one is fond of taking the eyes, see for yourself." Lestrade pulled the door open to let the pair through and beckoned them to the slab. John saw Sherlock immediately perk up, he suddenly became more animated and generally happier, a side to Sherlock that he had previously never seen.

"Oh look, she didn't fight back, no signs of any struggle, there isn't any tissue under the finger nails, she must have known her killer. Or were there any drugs in her system?" Sherlock began to examine her hands and feet.

"Tox report came back negative, she wasn't drunk or drugged."

"Where did you say she was found?"

"Her home, there was no sign of a struggle or break in."

"That supports the theory that she knew her killer, I think her eyes were cut out while she was still alive."

"Is that even possible?" John was horrified, he was suddenly very happy he did not have time to eat.

"If you do it quickly enough. There have been cases like this before, in the 60s, this could be the work of a copycat." Sherlock smiled at John. "Is it distasteful and morbid to be enjoying this, because I am."

"Yes, but-"

"Bad timing, I see." Sherlock leaned into the girl's eye sockets.

"Eyes, expertly done, someone in the medical profession, have you checked her phone records? Talked to friends?"

"That's the thing; there wasn't a phone or laptop in that house."

Sherlock, clapped his hands in excitement, and then saw the glare John was giving him. Mental note, thought Sherlock, pretend to enjoy case less. "That was the killer's first mistake, John, I hope you don't have homework, we have a case to solve."

"Okay, so what are we looking for?" John asked as they surveyed the victim's house.

"Anything, to be honest, just anything out of the ordinary." Sherlock was crouched on the floor, looking for evidence under the sofa.

"If the police have already visited the flat, why are we here?" John inquired, as he looked in the kitchen cabinet.

"The police are stupid, they don't see the whole picture, well they see it, they just don't understand what they are looking at. No offence, Lestrade."

"The whole point of saying 'no offence' is to not offend, but as it's you, none taken."

"Shhhh…I need to think." Sherlock sat down, crossed his legs and closed his eyes. Lestrade didn't seem to be concerned by Sherlock's behaviour, John, on the other hand was extremely perplexed.

"You are thinking too loud, okay, stop thinking and stop breathing, it's distracting" Sherlock began to bang at his head. "There's something missing, I'm not seeing it, ugh, it's so obvious."

"I can't be bec-" John began and Sherlock shut him up.

"I said no breathing. O-oh." Sherlock breathed as he jumped up, his face lit up. "Oh John, you're a genius, it's obvious, why couldn't I have thought of that." Sherlock held on to John's shoulders and mustered the biggest grin John had ever seen Sherlock produce.

"She wasn't breathing, look at the carbon monoxide monitor, John, you actually have to look at it." John stared hard at it, but he wasn't completely sure what he was looking for. "Okay, so in the bin of the kitchen, there was packaging for a carbon monoxide monitor-" Sherlock, pointed subsciently, "-and batteries. But look, the carbon monoxide reader has one battery in it, because the killer took it out. Why would someone buy new batteries and a new monoxide reader but then only put in one battery? He poisoned her with carbon monoxide gas, it's colourless and it doesn't smell, she wouldn't have known. It didn't come up in the tox report because it wasn't specifically being tested for, he must have had a gas mask and was able to take out the eyes while she wasn't breathing. Fantastic!" Sherlock swung John around.

"Sorry to brea

"Sherlock!"

After a week of living in a dorm with Sherlock, shouting his name had become a customary procedure. John had started to become accustomed to Sherlock's interesting choice of hobbies and the particular times he thought were appropriate to procure them.

"Sherlock! It's a three in the morning, please can you play when, you know, IT'S IN THE MIDDLE OF BLOODY DAY!" John took his pillow and tried to muffle the sound of the violin but to no avail.

"I wish that were probable but I feel like playing now, so I'm going to play now." Sherlock said in matter-of-fact tone, and if it was even possible, he began to play even louder.

"Last night, you described to me the school's ventilation system while blindfolded, so why you don't you climb up a vent and go pop into a music room for a bit like any normal person would when playing violin at three." John grumbled to himself, wondering why he'd even bothered when Sherlock was not the type to give in easily, or respond to reason.

"Well, you think the music sounds nice, though." Sherlock stopped playing and turned to John.

"Yes, well how did you know?" John's voice was full of sarcasm.

"You're smiling."

Sherlock continued playing violin into the early hours of the morning.

John stared at his chemistry textbook, wondering whether med school was worth the complete and utter confusion he experienced every chemistry lesson.

"You look muddled to say the least." He looked up saw a girl staring at her textbook, smiling to herself. "Metals can conduct electricity because of the delocalised electrons from the outer shell which are free to move around in the atom."

"Erm, thanks?" John was not sure whether to be thankfully or surprised.

"You just look really confused, I didn't hear you turn the page, you've been staring at the same page for over half an hour and your exercise book is blank apart from that doodle of…" She stared intently at John's exercise book. "Either a hotdog, or a fly, I'm not really sure what it is to be honest." She smiled at John and extended an inky hand, "Mary, and you are…", she waited for a response.

John was dazed, she was very, forthright? Pretty? Yes, she was more than pretty, gorgeous, and she was talking to him. Oh, right, this is the part of the conversation where you are supposed to talk, thought John. Okay, start talking; this seemed like a perfect time for him mouth to lose one of its only functions, talking.

"Urm, err, J-John, yes, err, John." John said hurriedly and blushed in embarrassment.

Mary looked at him expectantly, oh yes, he thought, he forgot to shake her hand. He shook her hand quickly and watched her burst into a fit of laughter. John wasn't sure if he was supposed to laugh along with her, so he coughed to make it less awkward.

"Someone is just not used to social interaction." She had stopped laughing but she was still beaming.

"No, I guess, I'm not." It was John's turn to smile at his lack of social skills.

"It's fine, it's kind of endearing." She pushed her chair towards John's, "Here, let me help you."

As she explained steadily to John, he felt two things begin to click in his mind. Firstly, he understood chemical bonding for the first time and secondly, he would like to know Mary better and that he knew for sure.

"So is it true that you share with Sherlock?" Mary tied her hair into tight bun, a simple activity that she managed make look extremely graceful.

"Yes, I guess." John wondered where she was going with this. He had become aware over his week at being in the school, that people had a general distaste for Sherlock Holmes. It could only be described as unified force that knitted the school body together. "If you have something to say about him that's bad, don't say it." He found himself being defensive of Sherlock, and to be honest, he realised he knew next nothing about him apart from that he had an amazing mind, bad social skills and just generally bad social conduct, bad being a huge understatement.

Mary stared at John, "Don't get pulled in by him and his mind. Be careful, I don't want him to hurt you." She squeezed his arm and continued to talk about the intermolecular forces in graphite.

"You look happy today." Sherlock said as John walked into the dorm. Sherlock was sat at the desk, head bent over a petri dish full of mould.

"What was she like?" Sherlock asked.

"What girl, wait? How did you-" John was puzzled, but soon realised that this was Sherlock, of course he knew.

"You weren't limping, there's bounce in your step. You had chemistry today, usually you slam the door after a lesson of chemistry." Sherlock continued to stare at the petri dish. John was presently surprised by the little things Sherlock had noticed about his mannerisms.

"I bet she's boring."

"You don't even know her." John's voice rose defensively.

"Well everybody's boring; trust you to like the boring ones." Sherlock rose from the desk and began to rummage through a drawer. "I'm shadowing a police case tomorrow, for psychology; we don't have any lessons tomorrow."

"That sounds exciting- wait, why did you say we?" John inquired.

"You're coming with me, I need a second opinion, someone I can trust, most of the police guys don't like me for some reason."

"Don't you have other friends, who can come with you?" John was secretly eager, but he thought a morbid fascination in crime might be seen as distasteful.

"Do I look like I have friends?" Sherlock studied John's expression.

"No?" Trying not to offend Sherlock but he guessed this was probably the truth.

"Look, you answered your own question, how clever of you." Sherlock applauded sarcastically.

"Why are you here, Sherlock?" Sherlock stopped staring avidly at the mould and turned to face John. "I mean, why didn't just skip school, you seem too bright to be here."

"I agree, I'm afraid that saying here will dull my mind, but alas, my elder brother Mycroft believes that my social capabilities are way below brain age and so he wishes for me to make friends." John wasn't sure if he imagined it, but he saw Sherlock shudder as he said friends. "I guess it's not so bad, I think you're growing on me, like a mould on cheese." Sherlock smiled the most genuine smile John had seen him smile, so he took that comment as a compliment.

"John, wake up. We're going to the morgue." Sherlock shoved John off the bed.

"Ow." John woke up sharply, and rubbed his head. Sherlock was peering intently at John's face.

"Maybe, I pushed you too hard. At least, you're concussed. You were out for…" Sherlock checked his watch, "2 minutes, 43 seconds."

John had got used to Sherlock's lack of concern for his wellbeing. He had already been injured that week when due to excitement, Sherlock throw a scalpel at the door, the same door, coincidentally John was walking through. John tried to reassure himself by telling himself the scar across his nose looked cool. It didn't. John had freaked out but Sherlock simply stated the velocity the scalpel was thrown at could have never have killed John, or seriously injured him. He then proceeded to scolded John for not giving back the scalpel.

"There's no time for you to shower so hurry up and get dressed." Sherlock began to pull on a long trench coat.

"Or I could just I have a lie in and not go." Sherlock gave John a murderous look, John decided that maybe going along was best, for everyone.

"DI Lestrade, nice to meet you John." Lestrade shook John's firmly and nodded at Sherlock.

"What are we looking at here?" Sherlock queried.

"This one is fond of taking the eyes, see for yourself." Lestrade pulled the door open to let the pair through and beckoned them to the slab. John saw Sherlock immediately perk up, he suddenly became more animated and generally happier, a side to Sherlock that he had previously never seen.

"Oh look, she didn't fight back, no signs of any struggle, there isn't any tissue under the finger nails, she must have known her killer. Or were there any drugs in her system?" Sherlock began to examine her hands and feet.

"Tox report came back negative, she wasn't drunk or drugged."

"Where did you say she was found?"

"Her home, there was no sign of a struggle or break in."

"That supports the theory that she knew her killer, I think her eyes were cut out while she was still alive."

"Is that even possible?" John was horrified, he was suddenly very happy he did not have time to eat.

"If you do it quickly enough. There have been cases like this before, in the 60s, this could be the work of a copycat." Sherlock smiled at John. "Is it distasteful and morbid to be enjoying this, because I am."

"Yes, but-"

"Bad timing, I see." Sherlock leaned into the girl's eye sockets.

"Eyes, expertly done, someone in the medical profession, have you checked her phone records? Talked to friends?"

"That's the thing; there wasn't a phone or laptop in that house."

Sherlock, clapped his hands in excitement, and then saw the glare John was giving him. Mental note, thought Sherlock, pretend to enjoy case less. "That was the killer's first mistake, John, I hope you don't have homework, we have a case to solve."

"Okay, so what are we looking for?" John asked as they surveyed the victim's house.

"Anything, to be honest, just anything out of the ordinary." Sherlock was crouched on the floor, looking for evidence under the sofa.

"If the police have already visited the flat, why are we here?" John inquired, as he looked in the kitchen cabinet.

"The police are stupid, they don't see the whole picture, well they see it, they just don't understand what they are looking at. No offence, Lestrade."

"The whole point of saying 'no offence' is to not offend, but as it's you, none taken."

"Shhhh…I need to think." Sherlock sat down, crossed his legs and closed his eyes. Lestrade didn't seem to be concerned by Sherlock's behaviour, John, on the other hand was extremely perplexed.

"You are thinking too loud, okay, stop thinking and stop breathing, it's distracting" Sherlock began to bang at his head. "There's something missing, I'm not seeing it, ugh, it's so obvious."

"I can't be bec-" John began and Sherlock shut him up.

"I said no breathing. O-oh." Sherlock breathed as he jumped up, his face lit up. "Oh John, you're a genius, it's obvious, why couldn't I have thought of that." Sherlock held on to John's shoulders and mustered the biggest grin John had ever seen Sherlock produce.

"She wasn't breathing, look at the carbon monoxide monitor, John, you actually have to look at it." John stared hard at it, but he wasn't completely sure what he was looking for. "Okay, so in the bin of the kitchen, there was packaging for a carbon monoxide monitor-" Sherlock, pointed subsciently, "-and batteries. But look, the carbon monoxide reader has one battery in it, because the killer took it out. Why would someone buy new batteries and a new monoxide reader but then only put in one battery? He poisoned her with carbon monoxide gas, it's colourless and it doesn't smell, she wouldn't have known. It didn't come up in the tox report because it wasn't specifically being tested for, he must have had a gas mask and was able to take out the eyes while she wasn't breathing. Fantastic!" Sherlock swung John around.

"Sorry to break the mood, but why did the killer use carbon monoxide gas, and why did the killer choose this victim?" Lestrade inquired, rubbing his temples.

"I'm guessing he thinks he's clever, the crazy ones always are, but they are stupid as well, they want to be caught. I take back my previous statement about the victim knowing the killer" Sherlock mused.

"Did you just say you were wrong?" John laughed.

"No, I wasn't wrong, I was misinformed." Sherlock stated simply.

"But why her, why this victim?" Lestrade insisted.

"Maybe it was a crime of convenience, maybe the killer saw her while on a train or he lived nearby. But he wants to get caught and he wants to show the world how clever he is, he's bound to have made a mistake and I will find it."

k the mood, but why did the killer use carbon monoxide gas, and why did the killer choose this victim?" Lestrade inquired, rubbing his temples.

"I'm guessing he thinks he's clever, the crazy ones always are, but they are stupid as well, they want to be caught. I take back my previous statement about the victim knowing the killer" Sherlock mused.

"Did you just say you were wrong?" John laughed.

"No, I wasn't wrong, I was misinformed." Sherlock stated simply.

"But why her, why this victim?" Lestrade insisted.

"Maybe it was a crime of convenience, maybe the killer saw her while on a train or he lived nearby. But he wants to get caught and he wants to show the world how clever he is, he's bound to have made a mistake and I will find it."


End file.
